Murder

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Laying down, staring at the ceiling
Can you hear me God?
My body’s drained of all its feeling
Are you near me God?
Can’t find the place to put the blame
My heart is weary God
Won’t give me more than I can handle
Please speak more clearly God
It’s like you take more than you give
It makes me hateful God
I went through years, no place to live
And I ain’t grateful God
Spent hours crying in the closet
“Don’t let him find me God”
He choked me til’ I was close to dying
Don’t lead me blindly God
Bloodied and beaten black and blue
You watched me struggle God
Still I returned and prayed to you
I remained humble God
Walked right through fire, hell on earth
It’s never easy God
I understand you have a plan
But what’s the reason God?
For sleepless nights brought on by fear
What will it teach me God?
When all my loved ones disappeared
Who’s left to grieve me God?
Torn down from mind to both my feet
I’m merely pieces God
Depressed and accepting defeat
My will, it ceases God
That man, he’s found me once again
And so I called you God
Reminisced before the end
I’m trying to stall too God
Though I am angry, I’m not ready
Why can’t you see that God?
I’m trying daily to be better
I really mean that God
I can’t believe that this has happened
Is this all real God?
I know you’re known for your hard tests
This ones a steal though God
I’ve no more strength, I feel the sleep
It’s growing nearer God
“I pray the Lord my soul to keep”
Hello, I’m here now God

A group of various poems that I feel are too short for their own post, so I jammed them all in one.

[1]. “What can I do
to become relevant again?”
I ask to my audience of zero,
as I find myself alone once more.

[2]. She had the frame that shook the world with envy
Eyes more furtive than a true magician
And when strangers approached her rather gently
She’d slice their throats and store them in her kitchen

[3]. No, he doesn’t know that I haven’t been sure for a while
And he won’t if its left up to me
I haven’t the heart to tell him
that I’m not who I used to be.

[4]. Splattering the room like a pot of dropped water,
the blood pours from the gaping wound atop the left of my breast
I don’t feel the maggots nestling beneath my aortic valves
To feel would imply that I am not numb
When I’ve been drunk on pain for as long as I can remember

[5]. They’ll look, they’ll stare as if I’m on display
though I’m merely strolling the sidewalks of the city
“Did you see that?” they’ll laugh as they turn to walk away
Oblivious that my differences make me feel pretty

[6]. Cobwebs in the afternoon trap my nightmares
Feasted on the spiders of the day
Catching flies in payment of our timeshare
A deal made when the devil comes to play

[7]. I’ll grab you by the neck in a cold attempt
to finish you
Your body, stiff, and doesn’t expect a polite
conversation
We’ll engage, there’s no time for introductions
Throwing your hat to the floor, your jugular sweat
running down the tips of my fingers
I force you towards my face
With no resistance from you,
and down your suds without a hint of regret.
A satisfying belch and a slammed fist to the table
signifies to your keeper that I’m ready for another.
“Another brewski, will ya?”

It started with a knife. Dipped briefly beneath some cool water, he gazed at the weapon firmly held in his hand. He’d done this many times before, but still showed hesitation each time the process had to be repeated. He walked over to the table where his victim awaited. Taking a deep breath, he slid the cold, sharp blade into its flesh.
A smell similar to the under arm cavities of a day laborer planted for hours beneath the hot sun instantly released and caused his nose to react violently. Within the seconds that followed, his eyes watered, sending bursts of burning streams down his face. Determined to finish what he’d already began, he started to carve faster, each sliver leaving a small puddle of stinky liquid on the wooden slab. Finally finished, he tossed the knife carelessly into the sink nearby and ran towards the bathroom.
The fresh air played only a small role in soothing him, but the cleansing of his face and hands with warm water provided complete relief. He let his elbows rest on the edge of the sink, satisfied that he had finished the job. The end results would prove to be worth every agonizing moment. After drying his hands, he pulled a small brown notepad and black pen from his back pocket. With a single swoop, he drew a check mark next to his most recent completed task: Slice Vidalia onions.